


For a Little Relief

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean does what he can to find some relief from the pressures of the Endverse</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Little Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winchesterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesterek/gifts).



The loud thwack of leather against skin brought a bright, blossoming rush of pain and Dean yelled out, his body jerking under the strike against his own will. “There you go,” the warm voice above him purred in a dulcet tone that made pride mix with the shame that these sessions always filled him with. A hand stroked over his upturned ass, and Dean’s face burned as he pushed back into it.

There was a soft chuckle, an echo of memory that made his eyes sting before there were two more quick smacks with the paddle. “Look at you, taking it so good for me. You’ve needed this for a while, haven’t you?”

He was nodding before the question was even finished. “Yeah,” he gasped when another swat reminded him to ‘use your words, Dean’. “Yeah, please.”

”Please what, Dean?” his tormentor’s quiet voice asked.

Tears pooled in his eyes, and another blow set them free. “Please spank me! I need it, I need - oh, God, please give it to me...”

“I know,” the familiar voice crooned in his ear. “Shhh, it’s okay. I know what you need. Ten more, all right?”

It wasn’t really a question that left him with a choice, but he nodded anyway. A kiss on his cheek assured him he’d be taken care of and then the paddle came down. Hard. He grunted out a pained “One,” and was rewarded with another hard blow.

“Two.” His ass was stinging, and the next two smacks didn’t make it any better. But his dick was also hard, and he knew that hadn’t been missed, just like the way he pushed back into the fifth strike. Nothing was ever missed on these days, whether it was how quickly he went from bracing for the paddle or crop or cane to begging for it because he needed it, needed the pain and the reminder and the release...

The next one rocked him forward and his count was half-moaned, half-sobbed from how good it was. He’d have trouble sitting for a few days, be shifting around in his chair and he’d have to endure Cass’ knowing look, but it was worth it. So, so worth it. He wiggled a little and was rewarded with two more firm spanks that left him breathless and dizzy with need.

One more and they were almost done. He wanted it to stop but at the same time, he wanted it to go on forever, if only because then he could stay here and not have to go out there and face the world that was falling apart to fast for him to save. “Please,” he begged brokenly when the final smack didn’t come. He was hanging on the precipice, teetering dangerously and he needed it, he needed it so freaking bad -

The last strike landed and Dean could swear he felt it with his whole goddamn body. His ass was on fire, his dick was throbbing, and his head was spinning. All he could think was Finally, fucking finally. “Please,” he gasped. “Please, I need -”

“It’s okay,” that silken voice said in his ear. Hands guided him into an upright kneel, one stroking down his back to squeeze his sore ass. “You can say it now.”

“Sammy!” The word was ripped from him on a scream as he came without being touched, making a mess of himself and the comforter under him. Not that it really mattered - they’d be right back here next week, or in another room like it, with thick comforters and ridiculous-thousand count sheets that he never got to actually sleep on, all of it on a comfortable bed that was as far from his own sagging makeshift cot as it could be. But that was okay, since it wasn’t about the luxury or anything but the pain and the few hours where he could pretend - pretend it was his brother’s hands on him instead of the thing that had taken his body, pretend there wasn’t a whole camp of people depending on him for everything from safety to toilet paper, pretend that things could still work out and they’d get back to where they were supposed to be. Pretend that he hadn’t lost everything.

He could feel the eyes on him as he sagged back into those familiar hands, breathless and light-headed. They were always watching him during these days, studying him like some kind of lab rat. He’d hated it at first, the reminder that this wasn’t Sam, would never be Sam, but as time had gone by and he’d allowed any matter of dirty, degrading things to be done to him, he’d actually come to be grateful for that. Hopefully Sam didn’t know what he’d become, what he’d allowed himself to be turned into for just a few hours of relief.

“Thank you,” he whispered, knowing he was thanking him not just for the orgasm, but the spanking and the release as well. Lucifer’s smile was almost like Sam’s - kind and loving, and just a little bit pitying.

“You’re welcome,” he responded. Dean felt his hand stroke over his neck, fingers slowly closing around him. He drew in a breath, slowly easing himself back down, and that was when he heard it - the sharp crack of bone as Lucifer broke his neck. The darkness descended, and he fell gratefully into it, dying with a smile on his lips. Somewhere, far away, Dylan’s voice was heard, scratchy and indistinct, and for a few precious seconds, all was right in the world.

Lucifer laid Dean’s body down on the bed and studied him for a minute. He was such an odd creature, this Dean Winchester, a mixture of need and desire and shame and love. In his own way, he was more Lucifer’s than he could ever have been Michael’s, more even than the brother he cried out for so desperately was. He fought him with all his might, sought the Colt as though it were the magical answer, but he still came whenever Lucifer called, still undressed at his command and begged for whatever he was willing to give him. He truly was an intriguing pet, one worth keeping around, if only because his suffering was so sweet.

Stroking his hair, he let Dean have a few more precious moments of rest before he touched his fingers to his forehead. “Time to go, Dean,” he said when his eyes opened. “I know it’s early, but you need to get back. You see, you’re going to have a very important visitor today...”


End file.
